


The Knack

by IrishmanErrant



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Bondage, Dildos, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Humiliation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Second Person, Punishment, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strappado, Vibrators, Video Cameras, really it's just porn, sir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishmanErrant/pseuds/IrishmanErrant
Summary: What's the fun in saying sorry, when you enjoy the loss as much as the win?A little change in perspective can be all it takes to get you back into the right frame of mind.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

There's an art to a punishment scene, or rather, a knack. Spanking scenes, sorrowful service scenes, edging, denial, begging, they all have their place, but to punish effectively, you need to understand that he understands what makes you tick. That’s the knack; if you treat punishment like a gift, thoughtful and considerate, it works. If you treat punishment like a chore, it won’t.

It’s Date Weekend, finally. The last weekend of every month is reserved for play, and it’s been a rough few weeks. You'd been testing the boundaries all day, and truthfully you both know that you'll get as much satisfaction as he does from the punishment to come. It's all part of the transfer of power and energy, and you were donating it to him in order to receive it back tenfold. “Make me” you say, one too many times. And he makes you. Break the rule, in order to feel broken, in order to feel remade. 

His demeanor changes. A smirk becomes something harsher, his eyes harden, his jaw sets, and with a hand running through your hair, he tightens his fist and forces you up to your knees and then to stand. He walks, neither going too slow, nor dragging painfully, pulling you as though ignorant of your presence. Walking steadily, he leads you to the center of the room. You lick your lips, letting yourself stumble along behind him. Basking in relinquishing choices, power to him.

“Don't move, don't beg, and don't say you're sorry. I'll know when you actually are.”

You breathe deeply, nodding, allowing your muscles to slacken. The resistance is half the fun, but what comes after brattiness is a truer, deeper submission.

He binds your arms tight behind your back, a quick double cuff at elbow and wrist. The long remaining end of the rope up, up, up though an eyebolt in the ceiling. Your body is tightly strapped into a harness, squeezed and compressed, and the ropes and leather straps leaving indentations. You like it firmer, and so he provides. As he pulls on the rope through the eyebolt, you’re forced to your feet, strappado finished as he cuffs your legs together into a spreader bar and leaves you balanced on the balls of your feet. He looks you in the eyes, unsmiling, and buckles a bit gag into your mouth. 

The punishment comes from the small things, the minor changes from established scene routine that make all the difference. He takes care to tie your hair back and leave the usual blindfold laying on the floor. You shift, squirming a little to find comfort, wondering what is in store. It’s concerning, that he’d want to leave you your sight. He knows as much as you do that being blinded only makes the pleasure stronger. He strokes along your ear, down and up your neck, pulling your chin out and holding it between His thumb and forefinger. Enjoying the change in the sound of your breathing as it flows around the gag. 

You feel yourself shaking. Legs spread, arms back, mouth open but unable to speak. Your eyes are widening, and you can’t help the anticipation and thrill driving goosebumps along your skin.

Using electrical tape, he takes twin small egg vibrators, and tapes them down tight over your nipples, turning them up to half-power and slipping the controller under a strap of the harness. Likewise, under the crotch rope, he uses a small, dual prong remote control vibrator, teasing it along your slit for a moment before sliding it in and turning it on low. The entire process, he’s taken care to be firm, answering moans with sharp spanks, and making sure that he tugs the restraints tight without the usual teasing caress of fingertips. The vibrators are set too low for you to cum quickly, and too high to ignore; the pattern of the punishment coming clear to you, you imagine to yourself as he stands and disappears from the room for a moment. 

You can feel sensations filling you; your clit and nipples and g-spot stimulated simultaneously. Skin crisscrossed by rope and leather, clasps and knots demanding their own attention as your shift your weight, drool already starting to well up as moans make their escape.

He returns, cutting into the building reverie, with the final piece of the puzzle. Under his armpit is a full length mirror, and with it, the punishment falls into place. You can see the arc of it now, and, as the mirror is set into place, you can see yourself and your state; and you can see yourself, pale skin against black gear, eyes wide, legs shaking. Your see yourself, and it fills you.

You blush, embarrassed, and start to use your tiptoes to turn yourself away, but he takes you firmly by the hips and sets you back. His skin against yours sets as much fire through you as the vibrators, his strength moving you where he wants you to be. 

“This is what you’ve earned. You don’t get to sink into the dark tonight. You get to watch yourself struggle. And lose. And submit. I’ll be back in... let’s check on you in an hour. Think about what you’ll say, pet.”

He leaves, the door shutting. Somewhere a car engine starts. You’ll be alone there, buzzing away, your legs kept apart, bent forward at the waist, drool slowly forming on your lips, crotch rope slowly starting to get soaked, and every inch of yourself, and your position, and your shame, and your joy, on display for an audience of one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang! 
> 
> This is my first real attempt at writing erotica fit for human consumption, and truth be told I'm still not sure it's up to snuff.
> 
> All I ask is your patience and a bit of sympathy for our poor protagonist and the author who's truly out of his depth struggling to write anything convincing in the second person.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He leaves, and the fun (so-called) begins in earnest.

As you writhe, arms tight and up behind your back, hips bent forward, legs spread wide by the metal spreader bar, as you watch yourself bound and helpless in the mirror in front of you, as you feel the pleasure building maddeningly slowly, he watches too. The wireless camera in the corner of the room turns on, a small green light blinking as he connects it to an app on his phone. As he takes his time leaving the apartment, you start to moan in earnest. Your knees bend together as far as they can go. He can see the glistening between your legs as the vibe buzzes away. He knows as well as you do, that on low you simply can’t cum, but it doesn’t stop you from closing your eyes and trying.

He gets in the car, and plug the aux cable in, and the sound of soft moaning, panting, and the thrum of toys pumps out of the speakers as he pulls away towards his errands. It’s difficult to keep his eyes on the road, with the occasional squeaks of pleasure and frustration mixing with the MMMPH’s and wet, drooly moans as the vibrators taped to your nipples and teasing your clit do their work. 

You struggle to keep yourself from begging, from crying out in the sheer frustrating, the impotent desire to feel more, go further. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch that flicker of green, and with a thrill you feel the sure knowledge that he is watching.

As he shops, he’s keeping an eye on his phone, one headphone in his ear. when he sees you notice the camera; your eyes tear away from the embarrassment of the mirror or the comfort of the floor and look into the camera, and he watches you tipoe your way awkwardly to face the camera. Your eyes are wide, with small tears forming in the corners, your chest and cheeks are already sweaty, and over the microphone, he can hear you start to speak. Words are barely formed past the gag, difficult under any circumstance and even harder when being distracted as you is. Your tongue pokes out as you start a low, pleading, difficult to understand mess of words. 

“Phwesh... Shuhh... Shwowwy.” The litany is slow and labored and grows a little desperate. He watches your knees start to quake and your ass clenches, and your eyes grow wide and then shut as you triy to capture and hold on to the fleeting pleasure long enough to allow yourself to cum. The opportunity is too good to pass up, so he steps aside into a secluded aisle and turns on the microphone. 

“I told you not to beg, I told you not to apologize, and I told you not to move... and here you are. Disappointing. If you can’t follow directions, I’ll have to take more direct measures”

He turns the microphone off and switches the app to another. Sliders controlling the vibrators fill the screen. He raises the sliders on all three to maximum power, and when he switches back to the camera, you’re thrashing against the rope binding her upright. The moans are loud now, high pitched and your legs can barely hold your weight as you climax. He smirks, satisfied, and keeps shopping. 

It’s the best you can do to keep from screaming, but in the depths of your mind, pride fills you as much as the pleasure does. You’re breath is ragged, your stomach clenching rhythmically as, having edged for so long, you feel yourself explode with a wave of pleasureable relief. Convincing him to let you cum is a specialty, you think to yourself, before the realization hits that it was only half the plan. With every toy on high, the sensation ramps up past the bearable. 

Where before, you had little hope of cumming before he came home, the best you can hope for now is that he turns the vibrators down before the sensation becomes too much to handle. He watches a stream of drool crawl down your chin and your eyes roll back into your head, your hands in the strappado clenching into useless fists. The sound of the buzzing is louder now, and your moans are almost animalistic, raw and full of enthusiasm. Shockingly fast, you’re building up again to another climax, and this time every muscle in your body starts to shake and bounce. With a rush you cum again, the vibrators cruelly pushing you past the point of no return and not stopping for a moment. Tears come to your eyes again, you’re bucking your hips against nothing as the sensations grow to be too much. He smiles, putting the phone away in the parking lot. As he turns the car towards home, the sounds of your desperate moaning fills the speakers again. 

The driveway crunches, the doorway opens, and you hear my voice in the flesh once more. You meet my eye, watching me close the door and start to undress through the tears. You’re in a haze, your pussy and throat are aching, your shoulders are sore, hands useless. A beautiful mess, quivering before him.

“You’ve had your fun, I think; now it’s time to earn forgiveness, my pet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the objectively male perspective, the author is doing his best!
> 
> This chapter really ramped up the smut to MAXIMUM porn levels, huh?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all lead up to this, as it always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gang, I can only beg your forgiveness that this chapter took so long to write and edit!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! This has been one hell of an experience, and getting even one Kudos is such a compliment!
> 
> (Oh, and if I said last time was MAXIMUM porn energy well... Not exactly)

“You’ve had your fun, I think; now it’s time to earn forgiveness, pet.”

You’re a perfect, beautiful mess; your skin is shining from sweat, your thighs are slick, a few strands of hair have fallen loose from the hair tie and are lying across your face. Yoyr eyes are bright and huge and pleading and full of tears, and your chin is covered in drool that has dripped to the floor alongside the other droplets from the vibrator’s work. 

You dare not say anything, panting and trying your best not to cum, and when he takes his phone from his pocket and turn the vibrators off, a sigh of relief washes over you immediately, muscles that had been tense for - God, who knows how long - finally getting respite. He smiles, despite his best instincts, and move further into the room. The shirt is off, thrown carelessly into the corner of the room, and with a soft, gurgling sound you feel him touch you. 

He reaches under you, supporting your weight with one arm under your chest while he reaches up and undoes the carabiner holding you up. Your legs can barely keep themselves upright without the help of the rope, and so you crumple to your knees; ankles still kept wide by the spreader bar, fighting the urge to fall prone and instead managing to maintain an upright kneel. 

You know better than to collapse into him. Through the bleariness and the relief, you know what’s expected, and in the deep truth of the scene in the back of your mind, it’s the part you love the best.

“Hmmmmm.... That’s more like it, sweetheart; now!”

He unbuckles your gag, letting your mouth fall open and reaching down to cup your chin in his hand, thumb pressing just enough into your mouth, pulling your neck taut and looking directly into your eyes. Your tongue can’t help itself but explore his fingertip, your jaw relaxing and unclenching. 

“Remind me: if you’re not gagged, what is this hole good for?”

“...C-cock, Sir...” you finally manage to stammer, breathing deeply and flushed.

“Good girl...” he says, removing his belt and letting his slacks drop to the floor. He takes your mouth, fully. You offer no resistance as he winds his hands into the roots of your hair and takes a firm grip. Instead, you lean forward into him, bobbing your head, stretching your neck to the limit. He barely needs to use his hand, such is the measure of your dedication. Soft slurping noises have replaced the moans of ten minutes ago, though every so often a thrill of vibration runs up his length. 

“Much, much better, my pet. I think you might have learned a lesson.”

He pulls you off his cock, now sloppy and wet, enjoying the unconscious disappointed noises you make as he pulls you up by the hair. He lets go, and as you follow him with your eyes, he moves around behind you. He bends over and slides the dildo vibrator out, leaving it buzzing away between his fingertips. You ache suddenly at the release, the lack of sensation riding that line between pleasurable and, if you are honest with yourself, bittersweet.

He takes the dildo, running it’s length along your cheek, before allowing the tip to rest against your lips. It continues to buzz, the scent and taste shamefully intoxicating, and, sensing his intention, you allow yourself to take it, holding it between your lips and looking up and back at him with pleading eyes.

“You liked it so much, I felt you deserved more practice, love.”

He puts his foot against your back and presses, forcing your torso forward, pressing your face into the floor and the dildo deeper into your mouth and throat. With a surprised, lustful MMMPPH~!, you take it as far as you can, raising your ass and pressing your shoulders and chest towards the ground. He kneels behind you, one hand on your neck, the other lifting before striking you hard on your ass. You quiver, blissfully incomprehensible, choking back words that even you wouldn’t be aware of, as another spank lands, and another, until as you brace for the next in the rhythm, he enters you. 

For the both of you, the next minutes pass in a blur. He takes you, gripping your hips tightly, relishing the feeling of your flesh between his fingertips while you gag and scream. The dildo falls from your mouth as you press up against him, having done its work. Working your hips, you ride against him, each of you doing your best to pour every ounce of sexual frustration and lust into one another. He takes you by the throat, pulling you up and against him, pounding into you as you reach back with your arms, brushing against his stomach and urging him deeper.

In a rush it’s done; your orgasm driving his, both of you exhausted. Both of you dripping, sticky, panting for breath.

Both of you eager for the next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey gang! 
> 
> This is my first real attempt at writing erotica fit for human consumption, and truth be told I'm still not sure it's up to snuff.
> 
> All I ask is your patience and a bit of sympathy for our poor protagonist and the author who's truly out of his depth struggling to write anything convincing in the second person.


End file.
